


Rescue Me

by verybi_verytired



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Like So Many Hugs, M/M, More tags to be added, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, no beta we die like men, no sibling incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-23 11:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verybi_verytired/pseuds/verybi_verytired
Summary: Five of the times Klaus tried to kill himself and one time he asks for help instead.





	1. I'm Slowly Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> My first multi-chapter fic so be kind! I'm done writing it, I just need to edit the last couple chapters :)  
> Chapter 1: attempts 1 and 2.  
> Chapter 2: attempts 3, 4, and 5  
> Chapter 3: asking for help
> 
>  
> 
> **This fic isn't going to be super happy and will include many potentially triggering things. If references to suicide, drug use/overdosing, alcohol abuse, child abuse, rape, or victim blaming are triggering for you, please don't read this!**
> 
>  
> 
> This is a fill for 'Suicide Attempt' square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card. It's a stand-alone fic.  
> The title of this fic is taken from a Hawthorne Heights song by the same name. The song is pretty fitting for this whole fic I think. The chapter titles are all lines from the song as well.

_**Attempt #1:** _

Klaus’ memory of his first suicide attempt was spotty at best.

What he could remember was spending an entire weekend locked in a mausoleum without food. The ghosts had been particularly visious this time around, screaming things at him and trying to hurt him. He was relieved when Reginald came to get him, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him home in the rain. He remembers how cold he had been in his thin uniform, how he’d tried to pull his arm away only for the grip around it to tighten and leave purple bruises while the man yelled at him for not trying hard enough. By the time they got through the mansion doors, Klaus almost wished the old man had left him in the cold dark crypt.

He remembered crying alone in his room after Reginald yelled at him, crying harder when the others were banned from talking to him for the night. He remembered wishing someone would ignore their dad and sobbing harder when no one did.

Klaus cried quietly under his covers until he was sure everyone was asleep, or at least in bed, before he dared to get up. He remembered the smell of the soap he used in his bubble bath and falling asleep in the warm bath only to be woken up by gory, screaming, ghosts. He doesn’t quite remember how he went from sleeping in the tub to crying and downing whatever pills he could find in the medicine cabinet. All he could remember about that decision is desperately wanting the ghosts to shit up and wanting to never have to hear them again.

The next morning when he woke up he wasn’t entirely sure how he had managed to survive (although later in life, after a lovely conversation with God herself, he would have a better understanding).

He didn’t tell anyone what he did, not wanting to see the disgust and disappointment on his families faces. He just cleaned up the vomit on the floor with shaking hands, then took a shower and went down to breakfast like everything was fine.

* * *

 

_**Attempt # 2:** _

The second time he tried he was freshly fourteen and he’d grown up quite a bit in the year since his first clumsy attempt.

He’d realized after waking up that first time that the ghosts that followed him were quieter after the amount of drugs he’d flooded his system with. He wasn’t sure what it was about the drugs that helped – was it the way they affected his mind? The way they messed with his brain or circulatory system? Was it how close to death they brought him? He had no idea, but as long as it worked he didn’t really care.

At first, he’d stuck with stolen sips of booze from his father's liquor cabinet and cheap weed. It seemed to help for a while, and he could actually get some sleep without spirits invading his dreams with their crying and demands. The peace he got from the weed was nice, but it only lasted so long and after a few months of using it wasn’t enough anymore – not enough to keep the louder, stronger, spirits away, and it definitely not enough to make dealing with their father bearable. It wasn’t long before he started spending whatever money he had on whatever he could get his hands on.

Thankfully, it was disgustingly easy to find people willing to sell drugs to a kid, even the hard shit.

He didn’t get high all the time though.

He told himself that since he could go days, sometimes even weeks, without a hit it meant he wasn’t an addict. He was always sober enough to go on missions or do training, sober enough to gossip with his siblings or to be there for them when they needed someone to lean on.

Klaus was pretty sure that no one knew he was popping pills (or doing coke, or on one memorable occasion trying heroin) but he was positive they all knew he smoked pot. He didn’t even try to hide it, even going so far as to roll a joint under the table during dinner at least once a week. He figured if they all knew about the weed, they would blame his odd behaviour on it. The plan seemed to work pretty well since even when he was high as a kite on some pretty looking pills or had done a couple of lines in the bathroom before lunch, all he ever got was an eye roll from the others and a disproving look from Reginald.

After a while it became like a game to him – how fucked up could he get before someone got worried about him?

The answer?

It varied from sibling to sibling, with Luther being least likely to notice and Diego and Ben pretty much tied for most likely. Sometimes he wondered if Five, who had definitely been the cleverest of them all, would have noticed or cared.

Dad caught on pretty easily to when he was high, but rather than trying to stop him, he would just extend the amount of time Klaus had to spend locked up with ghosts, spending the walk to and from the crypt lecturing him on how much of a failure he was turning out to be.

It was after another one of those lovely weekend long ‘private training sessions’ that he overdosed for the second time in his life.

This time, instead of looking for something to overdose on in the house he bought as many of his favourite little pills as he could. He went to one of the unused bathrooms on the upper floor of the huge house and ran himself a hot bubble bath before placing candles around the room. He knelt on the cold marble floor and listened to the water run while clearing his mind. He had been sober for about a week in preparation for tonight because he wanted to try one last time to contract Five before he killed himself.

He had d tried a handful of times in the last six months to contact his brother, both while high and sober, but no matter what he did he couldn’t find him. At one point he’d given in and brought out his old Ouija board and had a full-blown seance, but nothing had come of it. Either the kid wasn’t dead, or he was still a stubborn ass, even in the after-life. He guessed there was only one way to find out.

He got in the hot bath and relaxed into the bubbles for a moment before pouring all his pills into his hand and taking them all. If last time was anything to go by he was in for a rather painful time, but what was a little more suffering after the shit he’d been dealing with for years?

He felt kind of bad for whoever was unlucky enough to find him though.

It would probably be Mom.

He wondered if good ol' Reginald had programmed her to be capable of feeling sad and if she would care that he was dead. A part of him hoped she would – an even more selfish part of him hoped all his siblings would be sad too.

He closed his eyes and felt a sob crawl up his throat thinking about his siblings. He felt like he was letting them down by doing this, and he was sure it would break a few of their hearts that he didn’t even say a proper goodbye, but he just _couldn’t do it anymore_.

Sinking into the water he washed away the tears that had fallen. While he was under he felt the first signs of the drugs flooding his system and pushed away the guilt. It was too late now, but even if it wasn’t he wasn’t feeling bad enough to stop what was about to happen. Sitting up he felt his stomach clench and his eye droop. He didn’t try to fight it and let his eyes close.

From there he didn’t remember much.

His stomach ached and the high went from feeling _amazing_ to _terrifying_ real quick. He felt beyond hot and everything started to hurt and then the next thing he knew he was freezing and dripping water, with ice cold arms holding him. He vividly remembered the look on the face of the woman who picked him up and carried him through the house, remembered how looking at her was like looking into a warped mirror. He could vaguely recall the sound of an alarm going off, alerting everyone to someone needing help in the infirmary that was usually only used after missions.

The next thing he knew he was waking up, cold and alone in a hospital bed. A quick look around told him he was still in the mansion, and god if that didn’t hurt. Klaus couldn’t help but tear up. He covered his face with his hands and cried until he heard footsteps coming toward the door. He wiped his face just in time for Grace to come in the room with a sad smile on her lips.

“H-hey mom.”

“Klaus...” He wasn’t sure if the emotion behind his name was real, but he desperately hoped it was. He leaned into her hand when she stroked his cheek and gave her a watery smile. “We’re all very glad that you pulled through okay. You had us all so worried! Your heart stopped for a minute there but I fixed you right up!” She told him, checking his vitals before unhooking him from some machines. At a normal hospital he was sure he would have stay hooked up for a while, but Reginald had never been one to let them linger in the medical ward.

“I’m sorry, mom...” He had to fight to keep the tears at bay.

“Don’t apologize, Klaus... I’m sorry I didn’t see the signs sooner.” She told him, holding out a warm hand to help him to his feet and steadying him with her deceptively strong grip. She guided his hands on her shoulders once he could stand on his own and helped him into his uniform, even tying his shoes for him. “Everyone will be glad to see you’re okay!”

He shrunk in on himself as a wave of embarrassment and self-loathing washed over him. He figured, with the alarm and everything, that everyone would know what he’d done but he had hoped he’d get a day or two to come to terms with it before seeing everyone.

Klaus followed her through the house once he was dressed. He was grateful that she was going at a much slower pace than usual so he could hold her hand, and when she let go of his hand to head off to the kitchen he felt a bit lost. He wrapped his thin arms around himself as he made his way to the dining room, looking at the ground as he went.

He had barely made it through the door when a pair of strong arms wrapped around him, catching him off guard. He didn’t need to look up to know it was Diego hugging him, and he brought his own arms up, returning the gesture briefly before the tan boy was pushed aside by Ben. He laughed through the tears that had started to fall when he felt the movement of Ben’s belly against his own – it almost felt as if the monsters he housed inside were greeting him too. Allison and Vanya were next to hug him, pulling him between the two while crying and telling him how scared they had been. Luther offered him a hug too – he didn’t offer kind words or anything like the others, but he held onto him a bit tighter than usual and that was enough.

When their father made it down to eat he ignored Klaus completely, as if his son hadn’t almost died or spent three days hooked up to machines. Klaus didn’t mind though – he wasn’t sure he could handle the lecture he would eventually get in the state he was in at that moment.

The meal was spent in silence like it always was, but Allison hooked her foot around his and Ben held his hand under the table while everyone else kept smiling encouragingly at him. It was nice to feel loved by his family for once.

He did eventually get that lecture – and extra time in ‘training’ – but it was made a little less horrible by the fact that his siblings came to see him after he got home, helping him through the worst of the panic and pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a kudos and/or a comment telling me if you liked this!
> 
> It was the ghost of his mom carrying him, BTW. If you wanna read a fic where she gets to yell at Reginald check out my fic "Only If For A Night". This fic is referenced in like one line of that fic lmfao.


	2. I Wish I Could Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attempts 3, 4 and 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **If references to suicide, drug use/overdosing, alcohol abuse, child abuse, rape, or victim blaming are triggering for you, please don't read this!**  
>  The sexual assault is not graphic, but I did put a warning for it. be safe darlings.

_**Attempt #3: (Includes sexual assault of a minor and victim blaming)** _

The support of his siblings only lasted a few months.

It wasn’t their fault, he guessed. Their father had punished them all pretty harshly when they kept breaking curfew to check on him, and he knew they were all probably getting fed up with his nightmares and the continued drinking and drugs. Hell, he was annoyed at himself too, just not enough to stop.

It was obvious when everyone got in trouble for helping him. Diego got angry and quiet after being given extra ‘training’ in the water tanks and Vanya isolated herself from everyone because of whatever Reginald did to her. Allison and Luther got angry, but unlike Diego, who was angry at dad, those two were angry at Klaus. He knew it wasn’t their fault that they were so brainwashed by Reginald that they listened to whatever he said, but it wasn’t exactly fun to listen to the two of them lecture him about how if he was good he wouldn’t get in trouble. He was sure it was dad who planted the idea that he was just acting out for attention in their heads, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear Number One call him an attention whore when he showed up hungover as hell to group training.

Ben was the only one who wasn’t scared off by their loving father. Klaus was pretty sure that was because Reginald had become frightened of what Number Six could do, and had stopped punishing him like the rest of them but either way he was eternally grateful, especially on some of his worst night.

With everyone other than Ben either ignoring him to save themselves or thinking he was just acting out, he decided to do whatever he wanted, consequences be damned. Why bother caring what everyone else thinks about you? Why bother trying to make your father happy? Why bother trying to be anything but the family disappointment? If he was going to be punished and looked down at for everything he did, he might as well make it worth it.

His first decision after he stopped trying to make everyone happy was to grow his hair out, followed by learning how to do his make up. Not exactly what most people would consider being super rebellious, but everyone already knew about the drugs and their father had always hated when he messed around with anything feminine.

Letting his curls grow out to his shoulders made him feel good in a way that he had a hard time putting into words, and the eyeliner and lipstick just made it better. He had always been interested in more traditionally feminine things (like Grace’s high heels, which he did eventually learn to walk in) but he didn’t actually feel a like a girl. Gender had never been something he had put much thought into – he’d been born a boy and he didn’t mind being called a boy, but for the most part, gender was something he just didn’t feel connected too and he didn’t really care to put a label on.

Even years later he would vividly remember the look on Sir Reginald’s face when he came down to breakfast in one of Allison’s old uniforms for the first time. He had come down sober for once, just for the occasion, and the outraged expression made him smirk as he took his spot at the breakfast table.

“You look wonderful darling!” Grace exclaimed, placing a plate full of waffles in front of him with a wide smile. Ben and Allison had agreed with her while Diego and Vanya nodded, leaving Luther as the only one who seemed uncomfortable.

“Number Four. What is the meaning of this?” Reginald all but slammed down his utensils.

“Whatever do you mean, Father?” Klaus blinked innocently at the man, aware of Ben shaking his head and hiding a grin behind his glass of milk. “Oh! Do you mean my outfit? There was nothing in the rules against me wearing the traditionally feminine version of the uniform – I double checked!” His tone was sickly sweet even as he stabbed a piece of waffle with his knife and popped it into his carefully painted mouth. He watched the old man’s eye twitch, knowing he had won for now.

He was actually surprised when they were all given a new rule book that said they could wear either version of the uniform around the house. He happily got mom to make him up a few more uniforms and spent a considerable amount of time twirling in front of the mirror. He was so shocked and happy that he wasn’t even upset that the book also stated that he couldn’t, under any circumstance, wear a skirt on missions.

It was about a month later that he felt confident enough in how he looked to incorporate the ‘girly’ clothes into his look when he left the house. Within a few weeks, he’d replaced most of his party clothes with pretty feminine things – skirts, dresses, tight leather pants and crop tops. He loved the cool night air on his bare legs and the way he felt like he was floating when he sneaked out in a cute skirt. He loved how his usual dealer grinned and complimented him, asking where she could find the lipstick he was wearing. He loved how people looked at him when he went to his favourite club (it was all the way across town, but no one ever asked him for ID there, even though he was only 14). He loved the free drinks he got from strangers and the hands on his waist while he danced.

It was one of those nights out dancing that _it_ happened. He was having a good time on the dance floor and drinking for free thanks to the guy dancing with him. He remembered drinking a couple of colourful drinks and laughing a lot but after that things were a bit blurry.

He remembered hands pulling him out the backdoor into the cold alley, remembered ugly words being murmured into his skin while he tried to push away whoever was pinning him to the harsh brick wall only to find he couldn’t make his body listen to him. He remembered the pain and the blood staining his thighs.

He had no idea how he got home, or to Ben’s room, but he remembered crying into his brother chest while on their way to see mom.

Klaus cried on the cold hospital bed while Grace checked him over, took a couple of samples and cleaned him up, all while Reginald lectured him about dressing like he had and drinking so much. He hated him for it. Just because he dressed up and drank, just because he’d gotten on his knees for a hit before, didn’t mean he wanted or deserved this. Despite knowing that, knowing that it wasn’t his fault, he found a small part of him believed his father's words. He hated that, years later, he would still think it might have been his fault.

He held back tears at breakfast the next morning while Reginald told the rest of the teens that Klaus had gotten himself hurt thanks to his own stupidity. It didn’t slip past him that the old man refused to tell them what actually happened, probably because he knew most of them would be disgusted that dad would place the blame on Klaus’ shoulders. Klaus didn’t bother correcting him to test that theory though, and when Ben opened his mouth to do it himself he kicked him under the table. He didn’t want to have to deal with the fall out of calling dear old dad out for being a piece of shit. It would be easier to move on from this if he didn’t have to deal with being punished on top of everything.

~

If, a few nights later, he realized he was about to do a bit too much heroin and still went for it anyway, who had to know? Besides, it wasn’t unusual for junkies to accidentally overdose, and that's all dad seemed to think he was anyway - a junkie whore.

When he woke up to the disappointed face of his father hovering over him, it wasn’t exactly a surprise. He had hoped he had used enough to get the job done, but he should have known that it wouldn’t be. He’d used various drugs to try and kill himself before after all, and it never seemed to take. Maybe he should try something else next time...

He smiled brightly at Reginald, making the man’s eye twitch. He kept the bright grin on his face even when Grace started unhooking his IV and he felt his skin crawling from withdrawal.

“Gosh, I guess I should be a bit more careful!” He laughed, patting the old man on his shoulder before stripping out of the paper gown he had been put in and changing into the laid out uniform. He slid on his shoes, stepping on the backs instead of putting them on properly just to annoy Reginald that much more. When the old man opened his mouth to speak he ignored him, talking loudly over the harsh scolding he was sure he was about to get. “Well this was fun but I’m _starved_ – I’ve heard almost dying does that to you. I’m gonna go see if Mom will make me something to eat – toodles!”

He pulled out a cigarette from the pack that had been in his uniform pocket and lit it, waving at his father as he made his way to the stairs. He gripped the bannister as tightly as he could as he walked, feeling dizzy and tired but refusing to give Reginald the satisfaction of seeing him be weak.

When he got down to the living room it was easy to figure out that it had been Vanya who had found him. She was paler than usual as she looked at him and he felt horrible when he noticed the tears in her eyes. He kissed her cheek as he passed by her, whispering sorry in her ear despite knowing that that simple word could never be enough.

* * *

 

_**Attempt #4:** _

In the next three years following his overdose, Klaus kept using. His drug use increasing until he was at least a little high more often than not. Most of his siblings had grown annoyed him just months after his attempts on his life, disappointed that he wasn’t willing to stop using completely. He didn’t really care though. It was easy to not care when he was high as fuck and numb to everything.

He was rather proud of himself for managing to not kill himself during that time, although he would admit he was mostly only alive because dear old dad had said a few lovely things about how Klaus was going to end up dead if he kept on like he was. Part of him knew the old man had said it to piss him off and make him want to prove him wrong, but he really didn’t care. There was just something so _amusing_ about continuing to destroy himself, and still managing to prove his father wrong.

Another benefit to his self-destruction was that Reginald was eventually forced to sideline him. With being forced to sit out came a sense of freedom he had never felt before. He loved that he wasn’t being forced to play hero every week and that he didn’t have to train anymore since his powers weren’t working with the poison he was pumping himself full of.

On the night that changed everything, he had hugged his favourite brothers goodbye and waved to the rest. He decided to stay in while they were all gone, secure in the fact that this mission was meant to be pretty routine and boring. Klaus asked Vanya if she wanted to hang out, shrugging when she brushed him off and he laid himself out in bed in his favourite comfy clothes and took one of his favourite pills, not looking to actually get high, just wanting to chill and draw.

He turned on some music and let himself float for what felt like hours while sketching some of the weirder ghosts he had seen over the years until he heard his name being called.

Klaus pulled off his headphones and sat up. He frowned when he saw Ben in his doorway – he hadn’t expected to see anyone back for at least a couple days, and he said as much.

“Did something happen? You look a little shaken up.” He shimmied his shoulders when he said that, hoping to wipe the shell shocked look off his brother's face. It didn’t work. The other teen just kept staring at him, with watery eyes.

Klaus jumped to his feet when he noticed the tears, heart beating rapidly in a way that had nothing to do with the drugs. “Ben, what happened? Is everyone – Did someone get hurt?” He asked, hesitantly walking toward him.

“I... I think I did.” Ben told him in a broken whisper, at the same time that Klaus reached out and tried to touch his shoulder.

When his hand went through his brother his eyes widened and jumped between Ben and the ‘Good-Bye’ tattoo on the offending hand. He clenched his fist, nails digging into the palm of his hand as he tried to draw in a proper breath.

“I think I’m dead.” Ben sat on the edge of Klaus’ bed, the mattress not dipping where he was seated. For some reason that seemed to be the straw that broke the camels back for 00.04, and he felt himself collapse to his knees in the floor in front of his brother.

He didn’t tear up, or start sobbing right away like he always imagined would happen if one of his siblings died, instead he leaned forward and put his head on the bed beside the ghost’s thigh, staring at the fabric of his jeans. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath. If he focused he could almost feel the warmth that Ben usually gave off, but he was pretty sure that was all in his head. He spent a good ten minutes like that before the vision of his brother flickered before him and faded.

He swore he felt the other touch his hair gently before he disappeared and that’s when the tears started.

Once the flood gates were opened, he couldn’t stop. He cried until his throat felt raw from screaming and sobbing, and it was only when Vanya ran into his room with Grace following behind her that he calmed down enough to tell them that Ben wouldn’t be coming home. He passed out pretty quick after that, Vanya curled into his chest as they both cried themselves to sleep.

The funeral was three days later.

Reginald only stayed in the yard long enough to unveil the statue of his dead son before leaving them to mourn.

Somehow Ben stood beside him even though he wasn’t completely sober. He tried not to laugh while Luther was giving some speech about being a family, but he couldn’t help but giggle a bit. It was all Ben’s fault really – he was rolling his eyes and making bad jokes. When everyone got mad at him for laughing, Klaus tried to explain that Ben was there and being an ass, but no one believed him. He flinched back from Luther when the taller boy yelled at him for being high and lying about there dead brother at his funeral for attention. Klaus didn’t even bother trying to deny it. He had figured they wouldn’t take him seriously, but it still kind of hurts that even Diego didn’t seem to believe him. Everyone knew he got high to get rid of the ghosts so why would they believe he could see Ben after watching him pop a couple of vicodin.

He watched Ben yell at Luther for a few minutes before leaving. It would have been amusing to watch 00.01 get yelled at for being an ass while he gave a long-winded speech about family, but he felt kind of numb about it.

He popped a few more pill before getting in bed and closing his eyes. He smiled when the air around him got cold and he smelt Ben’s cologne. He smiled at the ghost of his brother before falling asleep to the sound of the dead teen ranting softly about the idiots they call siblings.

When he woke up he was alone in bed. That wasn’t unusual – Ben wasn’t always with him after all. What was unusual was when Ben didn’t show up at all for the rest of the day, even when Klaus went out to get some more pills or when he decided to watch one of Ben’s favourite movies after dinner. In fact, Ben didn’t show up the next day either, or the one after that or the day after that. It was after the third day that he started to freak out a bit. Without the ghost hanging around he felt like he was suffocating on his grief. He lasted three weeks before he did something drastic. Three weeks of no Ben. Three weeks of feeling lost and not having someone to turn to. Three weeks of not being able to look at the rest of his siblings without feeling sick from the knowledge that they thought he would lie about seeing their dead brother.

After those three weeks, he felt lower than he could remember and he was far too sober. He had hoped being clean would make it easier to conjure 00.06, but it hadn’t done anything but add to his stress and depression. After three weeks of progressively feeling worse and worse, he finally snapped, stealing one of Diego’s blades from his case while the man was sleeping. He was no stranger to self-harm, but since he preferred to use drugs to numb himself these days, he didn’t have any razor blades laying around. He thought about using a kitchen knife, but he knew that none of them were even half as sharp as the knives his brother had.

Besides choosing what to use and where to do it, he didn’t really have a plan. He simply sat on his bed and rolled up his sleeves, pressing the unbelievably sharp blade to his skin. He took a deep breath and pressed down hard, drawing the blade through his skin with ease. He switched hands and quickly did the same on the other side, before dropping the blade and falling back onto his pillows. He only felt pain for a few moments before he lost consciousness, warm blood pooling around him.

Klaus didn’t expect to wake up this time, so when he did he was thoroughly confused and more than a little angry.

He tried to sit up only for his head to spin and his stomach to clench, making him moan in discomfort. Waking up after losing a lot of blood was never fun.

“Oh! You’re awake! That’s wonderful!” He opened his eyes to see Grace sitting beside him, looking more than a little shaken. He could see a tray beside her with medical supplies and a garbage bag in the corner with his old sheets poking out of the top. Looking down at himself he cursed when he realized his arms were bandaged and his bedding changed, making his mom frown.

“I found you bleeding out from self-inflicted wounds and fixed you up.” She told him, her eyes sad as she rested a hand on his arm. “I-I didn't inform the others of what you did – they’ve only just lost one brother, I don’t want them to worry that they almost lost another one. I told Sir Reginald that you were feeling under the weather so he won’t expect to see for a couple of days.”

Her tone was cheery as always, but the stutter made him pause. Mom wasn’t a real person – she didn’t do normal things like stutter or lie. If she was doing those things, then she was going against her programming. Did that mean she was broken, or that she was evolving to be more than what dad made her? Either way, he wasn't going to question it since it was working out in his favour.

Knowing he didn’t have to get up Klaus settled back into bed, wincing as he moved his arms to try and pull the covers up. He smiled softly when Grace carefully moved his arms into a more comfortable position before tucking him in like she would do when he was little. She didn’t stay long after that, but when she left she promised to bring him some food after the other had their breakfast.

Klaus didn’t have time to wallow all his returning negative emotions after she left because before the door was even fully closed, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“I leave you alone for a few weeks, and you pull this shit?”

Klaus’ breath caught in his throat and a smile crept on to his face. “Well, since you weren’t coming to me, I figured I’d go to you! You know how much I _hate_ being ignored!” He exclaimed, turning his head to see a fond smile on his brother's face. “Don’t disappear for so long next time and I won’t have to take such drastic measures!”

Klaus carefully rolled onto his other side without getting tangled and watched Ben get comfy next to him. He found himself wishing he could curl up into his brother side like he used to, but just being near him like this was more than he thought he would ever have again. He put a hand on the bed beside him and felt a strange cool static travel through his limb when Ben placed his hand over his, it sinking into his skin, and let himself be pulled into the deep sleep he’d been missing since he’d last seen the dead boy.

* * *

 

_**Attempt # 5:** (Implied sexual assault while in jail)_

After that attempt, Klaus stopped trying to kill himself.

“Trying” was the key word there.

After he moved out, just a few weeks after Grace saved him, he lost himself in a world of drugs and sex. It was easier to live in a constant haze than to be a real, normal person. Not that he didn’t give it a go every once in a while – usually he would try to get clean after an accidental overdose, using his darling father's money to pay for his stay in rehab.

The next dozen or so years were spent in a horrifying cycle of self-destruction and rehab. It was hard to find and hold down a job when you spent your childhood being groomed to fight crime and kill bad guys. Sure Diego seemed to do okay out there in the real world but Klaus wasn’t exactly police or boxing material, even when sober. Stripping and sex work were the only types of work he seemed to be able to do without getting clean or using his powers.

It was prostitution and drugs landed him in jail for a short while and as far as Klaus was concerned, the less said about what he went through in there the better.

He was out for barely a week before he rented a nice motel room and slit his wrists in the bath, trying to ignore Ben as he cried while he bled out.

Klaus had no idea how he had been saved this time. He woke up in a bright clean hospital room with his brother sitting next to him and he sobbed into Diego’s chest while the other held him as tight as he dared. No one besides Diego came to see him, although he was pretty sure it was Reginald who paid for his stay in the hospital.

After he got out he stayed with Diego. He stayed clean the whole time, relying on the scarred man to help him through the worst of the withdrawal. He even told the man what happened to drive him to try to kill himself again. He let himself be comforted by his brother while he cried until he felt a bit better. Sure he could talk to Ben, but there was something so nice about being held while he cried and having someone other than Ben tell him it would be okay.

He stayed with his brother for a month before he left, leaving a simple note behind. He threw himself back into the lifestyle he was part of before jail, craving the numbness of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a kudos and/or a comment telling me if you enjoyed this!
> 
> The last chapter should be out tomorrow.


	3. Rescue Me (From Everything)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus asks for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings for this chapter, besides drugs/cravings and suicidal thoughts.
> 
> I apologize in advance for any flow issues - it's definitely not my best editing job but I'm having a rather rough brain day today. Gotta love when ADHD turns you into Jared, 19.

_**The Attempt That Never Happened:** _

The next handful of years were pretty blurry for Klaus. He managed to not go back to jail while still maintaining the lifestyle he had always had. He was sure having a brother who was friends with a handful of local cops played a pretty big part in that, but he still patted himself on the back for managing to avoid getting in real trouble.

Rehab was a different story though. He spent almost as much time in rehab as he did out of it the closer he got to 29. That's not to say that he was sober or anything – he never went to the most secure facilities so drugs were laughably easy to come by. He was actually in rehab when Vanya’s book came out. He had never been happy to be using a fake name than when the book dropped – he was certain that no one would have let him anywhere near that damn thing if they knew there was a whole chapter in there dedicated to just how fucked up he was.

The book had left him feeling all sorts of ways that he didn’t want to deal with and he ended up checking out of the rehab early. To deal with said feelings he decided to do a bunch of drugs and party with the wrong people until Diego found him in a dirty alley a few weeks later and talked some sense into him. He let himself be checked back into rehab, cursing Diego for being the only one in the family who, even after all this time, could successfully guilty trip him.

Klaus spent the full thirty days in rehab this time and actually stayed sober the whole time. Those thirty days were hell but he was proud of himself for making it.

Not too proud though, since he lasted a grand total of three hours after getting out before he was throwing away that month of sobriety.

It was barely seven hours after getting out that he was waking up in the back of an ambulance and finding out that dead old dad was dead.

And then, less than two days later, he found out little Number Five  _wasn’t_  dead.

And then he got kidnapped and tortured and  _sober_.

And then Vietnam happened.

And  _Dave_.

And suddenly Ben could touch him, Vanya had powers, and the world almost ended.

~

Now, almost a year later, things have settled.

Mom and Pogo were alive, dad was (thankfully) still dead, and the world was safe. He’d learned how to let everyone see and touch Ben and how to see and touch Dave himself, as well as how to control the other powers he hadn’t realized he had. They were all settled into a new normal – one where Vanya was treated like she should have always been and people took him seriously.

The year had come with quite a bit of drama, which was to be expected when you throw a group of very different people into a house for the first time in 10 years and make them work together, but for the most part things had been calm and easy.

That’s why it was so hard for Klaus to do what he needed to do – so hard for him to ask for the help he needed.

Everyone seemed to be healing and feeling better. Everyone seemed to be moving on with their lives and moving past their childhood traumas. Even Vanya was doing amazing – she wasn’t doing quite as good as, say, Allison or Luther, but she was still doing a million times better than he was. Somehow everyone was getting their shit together except for him and he didn’t know what to do about it.

He  _was_  doing better, he just wasn’t doing as good as everyone else seemed to think he should be. He had never felt so in control of his own life up to this point and he felt much less useless now that he had unlocked his full potential. He wasn’t as terrified of the ghosts that haunted him now that he understood how to banish them, and he’d been completely clean since the world almost ended.

The problem was that he still felt broken. He still felt like he would fall apart at any second. A day hadn’t gone by where he didn’t think about shooting up or popping pills and he was lucky if he could go a full night without waking up from nightmares from his childhood or flashbacks from a war that ended more than ten years before he was born.

Ben and Dave helped. Dave especially helped on nights when he woke up shaking and screaming, hearing gunfire that wasn’t really there with the smell of his lover’s blood heavy in the air. Ben (often with Dave’s help) helped him when he felt like he was trapped and couldn’t breathe, unable to banish the spirits in his room through his panic. They didn’t mind helping, but they both encouraged him to ask the others for help too. He usually brushed them off when they tried to get him to go see Diego or Vanya, telling them he was fine and that he didn’t want to bother them over a little panic attack or because he was a little sad.

But he wasn’t just ‘a little sad’, and the PTSD wasn’t getting easier to deal with. More and more often, as he watched everyone get better, he found himself locking himself in his room so he didn’t go out and find one of his old dealers. He stopped hanging out in the main sitting room, pushing everyone away like he had when he was a teenager. He still went down to meals, still laughed and joked and quipped at his family, but everything felt so forced and pointless that he eventually stopped doing that too. Even Ben and Dave were kept at arm's length, often ignored or yelled at for bothering him.

It wasn’t until after he turned down an invitation to go out on a family shopping trip that everyone  _really_  started to worry though.

~

Klaus sat in the living room after everyone had left and stared at the bar, leg bouncing. He was so focused on not getting up and drinking himself stupid that he didn’t even notice when Grace came in and sat beside him until she put a hand on his shoulder. He offered her a small, defeated smile, which she returned with sad eyes. It amazed him how emotional she was, especially with Reginald dead and gone.

“I’m worried about you,” Grace told him, as blunt and to the point as ever.

“I’m fine mom – I’m just tired.” He smiled unconvincingly and moved to get up and away from both this conversation and the fully stocked bar.

Grace reached out and grabbed his hand as he moved to walk away. She was as gentle as ever, but he could feel the artificial power behind her grip. “No you’re not. You’re exhibiting many of the same signs as when you attempted suicide when you were a teenager.” She said in her matter-of-fact tone, but her expression was sad enough that it had him crumpling back onto the couch. “I’m very worried about you.” She repeated.

Klaus opened his mouth but nothing came out – what was he supposed to do? Lie to his mom and say he was fine? Because he really wasn’t and it was starting to really get to him and shit, he was pretty sure he was crying now.

Reaching up Klaus wiped his face, but he gave up on saving his eyeliner rather quickly when his mom pulled him into her arms, holding him close. She cooed softly at him, running her fingers through his hair while his shoulders shook as he cried into her chest, hands holding tightly to the back of her dress. He could feel two other hands (both belonging to very different, very dead, people) rubbing his shoulder and back while he sobbed.

That was the scene the rest of the Hargreeves children walked into.

Vanya was the first to respond, both dropping her bags of shopping to come and kneel by Klaus. Diego was a close second. The rest picked places to sit around the living room, unsure exactly what to do for their sobbing brother.

When he finally caught his breath Grace stood, whispering for him to tell his siblings that he needed them. Klaus nodded at her as he tried to pull himself together. He leaned into Dave, who had taken her spot, and tried to smile at Ben when he sat on the back of the couch behind them, a comforting presence. He idly wondered if was so comforting for them to be around because their very souls were literally connected to him through his powers.

“I’m not okay.” Klaus said the words into Dave’s shoulder, not wanting to see everyone’s reactions – their disappointment. “I’m so fucked up  _all the time._ ”

“Is that why you pulled away from everyone?” Allison was the first to respond after everyone let Klaus’ words sink in for a second. “We were... we were starting to worry that you relapsed.” She admitted. She, and everyone else, looked a bit ashamed that that had been their first thought, but Klaus couldn’t blame them. How many times had he gone to rehab in the last ten years? How many times had he told everyone he was fine, while his life was spiralling out of control?

“You’re all doing  _so good_  and I’m just fucking falling apart. The cravings are a bitch and I barely sleep and when I’m upset it's so hard to make the ghosts  _shut the fuck up!_ ” He yelled the last bit at the angry man in the corner who had been yelling at him since he woke up. He was beyond happy when the spirit flickered and finally disappeared, but his little self-satisfied grin vanished when he realized that he had also lost control over Ben and Dave. They were both still with him, but they weren’t visible to everyone anymore and he was too drained to focus enough to fix it.

“Is that why you didn’t come to us? Because we’re healing?” Vanya’s hand on his knee tightened when he nodded.

“It’s just... I feel like dad was right and I’m just a disappointment. I still don’t have great control of my powers and Vanya’s already figured most of her shit out and it’s hasn’t even been a full year.” He picked at his chipping nail polish, trying to hide the shaking in his hands by focusing on them while also avoiding eye contact with everyone. “You’re all doing so well, you don’t need me weighing you down because I’m too weak to deal with my ‘issues’.”

“Klaus, that stupid.” Diego flinched away from Five and his sharp elbows. He quickly continued with what he was saying, not wanting the curly haired man to take that the wrong way. “I just mean that we all love you and we’re all here for you. We’re not gonna be angry or think you’re weak if you needed extra help.” Diego let out an overdramatic groan when Klaus threw himself forward into his arms but didn’t push him away. He might have rolled his eyes, but the way he held his brother tightly gave away how much he cared. “You’re not a disappointment – dad was an asshole who didn’t know shit.”

Allison grinned at the display of brotherly affection and stood. She was sure the would all need to have a proper conversation about how to best help Klaus, but she could also tell that the man was beyond exhausted, both emotionally and physically. “From the smell of it, mom is making cookies. I say we all put our stuff away and get some blankets and have a family movie night.” With that, she grabbed a few of the shopping bags from the floor and started toward the stairs, not staying long enough for anyone to disagree with her idea. “And Klaus? I got a bunch of new nail polish if you want me to fix you up? Your nails look like they could use a little TLC.”

Any potential protests were squashed when Klaus smiled and nodded. After the scene they had walked in on they were all okay with any plan that kept that heartbreaking look off their brothers face, even if it meant watching shitty movies and sleeping on the living room floor.

The siblings all watched as Klaus used his telekinesis to pick up the rest of Allison’s bags and followed her up the stairs, before heading off to their own rooms to get blankets and pillows.

A family night and some pampering weren’t going cure Klaus’ mental health problems or let him sleep through a whole night without a flashback and he wasn’t going to magically stop thinking about getting high just because his mom made his favourite cookies, but knowing that everyone did care and wanted to help was a good first step. Knowing that no one saw him as weak for not being on the same timeline as them recovery wise, and knowing that they would help him learn to deal with everything made him feel light in a way that he hadn’t in years.

When he woke up the next morning in a huge nest of pillows and blankets with all of his siblings touching some part of him and the scent of cinnamon buns in the air, he smiled. For the first time in a long time, he was happy to be waking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a kudos and/or a comment telling me if you enjoyed this!
> 
> AHHHH! This is the longest fic I've ever written and I'm so proud of myself for finishing it!
> 
> I hope the ending was satisfying - I didn't want it to end too perfectly, because recovery isn't easy or perfect. It's okay to need help and ask for it and it's okay to have really bad days or to relapse. Recovery from anything - addictions, eating disorders, self-harm, mental illness - isn't a straight line and it's not a race. Getting help can be scary and hard, but everyone deserves to be happy and healthy <3


End file.
